


love me quietly

by cassanabaratheon



Category: Home Fires, Home Fires (ITV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanabaratheon/pseuds/cassanabaratheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not a violent seizure of desire, there is no wooing like in the films or lovelorn pining. But that does not mean they aren’t aware of the way it crept upon them, a slow dawning, that gently enclosed them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love me quietly

**Author's Note:**

> for the tumblr prompt: Alison & Teresa falling in love

It is not a violent seizure of desire, there is no wooing like in the films or lovelorn pining. But that does not mean they aren’t aware of the way it crept upon them, a slow dawning, that gently enclosed them. It is in the darting looks at lips or the nape of a neck, the soft brush of fingers against a wrist, an embrace that lingers with bodies locked shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest and hip to hip. In the drowsy thoughts they have before sleep, the little smiles as they catch each other’s eye at WI meetings, or sitting in the dark as the latest war film rolls by, struggling to concentrate when the slight reach to the side would have their hands resting together. It is there, a tremor of awareness, an undercurrent, which passes between them, begging for attention that they cannot give quite yet.

**-x-**

The sun is bright, the day hazy and warm and, just for this afternoon, the war feels like some terrible dream away. In the garden, which has been almost entirely transformed into a self-sufficient plot of land with areas given over to vegetables in every direction, they sit on the last patch of grass, soaking up the gentle spring sunshine. It was Teresa’s idea to have tea and bread with some of the WI jam Alison has been saving as they relax from their toils. As she pours out the tea, she takes in Alison’s appearance with a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” She asks in between taking quick bite out of her jam sandwich. 

“You have dirt all over your face,” Teresa says with a grin, handing her a cup before pouring out her own. 

“You look a state too,” Alison retorts with a hint of a smile. She sets her tea to the side to brush at her right cheek with the back of her hand. “Better?”

“No,” Teresa laughs and puts her cup down. “Here.” She shuffles closer, rising onto her knees before her and leans in, cupping her face with her hand and rubbing her thumb across her cheek. 

Perhaps it is the sudden proximity but Alison goes quiet and her eyes lower. She can feel Teresa’s breath, smell her perfume and she is transfixed by the spot of skin at the base of her throat exposed by the old shirt. She swallows hard.  

Teresa’s gaze flickers to her mouth, as it has done so many times in the past and today, watching her lips slightly part which only makes her heart flutter wildly in her chest. She stills her actions and a slight frown begins to form on Alison’s face.

“Is it gone?” she murmurs and the other woman’s touch falls away.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sounding strained and she sits back onto her heels as she reaches for her cup, taking a large sip of tea, finding her mouth parched. She looks at her only when she hears Alison say her name quietly and sees her catching her bottom lip between her teeth, a blush on her cheeks there not by her administrations.  

She does not really think when leans towards her, carefully so, giving Alison more than enough time to move away. As she does not, she frames her face this time with both of her hands, watching Alison’s eyes flutter close, before pressing her lips against hers in the softest of kisses. She inches back a fraction, gently angling her face to kiss her once again. There is the barely detectable tremble in her that gives her way, and when Teresa is about to draw back, she follows her, pressing her own kiss back and Teresa tastes the sweet trace of blackberry jam. 

It is not all-consuming hunger, frantic and burning, at this moment. For now it is sweet, tentative, with just an edge of heat, which leaves them exhilarated and they bashfully smile at their flushed-pink cheeks and reddened lips.

  
“Right, well, we should finish this off,” Alison says, clearing her throat a little and gesturing to the garden - her shyness quite endearing.

They don’t speak about it but when they have finally finished and return to the house, cleaning themselves up before settling down for the evening, Alison gently takes her hand, drawing her down to squash up together on the small sofa, legs drawn up and tucked behind each other, head resting against head.   
  


That low-thrum of  _something_  that had been building for months is now not unthinkable, _unattainable_ , it is there with quiet acknowledgement in the way their fingers entwine and then, later, in a hushed breath against bare skin,  _I love you._


End file.
